The Viscount's Counterfeit Wife (12 page)

“Can too.” He
sounded like a child trying to win at one-upmanship. “You can
always pay me back when that new attorney of yours gets yer money
back from your brothers’ control.” A sly grin slid across his
wizened face. “You won’t find me objecting.”

“Put like that, I
suppose it makes sense.” She felt ashamed. Imagine borrowing money
from your retainer? Not that she ever really considered Foster a
servant. He was far more of a father to her than her own had ever
been. Still, it went against all the rules. On the other hand, it was
evident they needed protection… and someone to investigate. He’d
only worry, if they didn’t. “Will he be able to live in?”

“No, he won’t be
living in.”

“He won’t? After
Mr. Gordon climbed in the window! Surely you explained we need his
protection day and night until this is cleared up.”

“Tried to.” He
folded his arms across his chest defensively. “He said he’d take
care of it.” Foster looked self-conscious. “He sounded so
definite and sure of himself, I didn’t argue. Didn’t want to rile
him none. He might have changed his mind about helping us.”

Tally was puzzled.
“Didn’t he want to help us?”

“Not at first.”

There was something he
wasn’t telling her. “Why not?”

“Appears he picks and
chooses only the cases he wants to take on and right now he has
several other cases open.”

“Sounds awfully
finicky.”

“I asked him to
pretend to be a friend of the family, which would be the easiest way
of explaining him to yon Gordon, and he agreed.”

“Will that work, do
you think?” Some of these runners were rough-looking around the
edges and Reed was very observant, she was learning to her detriment.

He nodded, with a smug
little air. “He’s even a mite better than what we might have
expected.”

“So he’s
presentable, I mean, suitable?” Her luck had been so bad since
coming to Town she had a hard time believing anything positive could
happen. “I haven’t much hope of that, but if we can introduce him
as a family friend, it would be so much easier.”

“We’ve been lucky,
much luckier than if we’d waited for a Runner.” He paused,
clearly about to enjoy a ‘ta-dah’ moment. “The man’s a
flaming blue blood! Third whelp of a Scottish Earl.”

“An Earl’s son! And
he’s going to work for us? Who ever heard of such a thing?” She
pressed her fingers against her aching temples. Oh, why did
everything seem to be conspiring against her?

“According to one of
the Runners I asked, after Mason got back from war, he was bored by
too much inactivity. He comes highly recommended by the head man at
Bow Street. He said Mr. Mason has an impeccable reputation and has
never left a case unsolved. He’s even recruited a couple of his
friends, former army men, to work with him.” Foster was proud of
his coup. “I had to convince him of your need and it took some
doing, I can tell you. He’s mighty particular about what he takes
on. I think, in the end, it was the mystery of us not knowing who
might want to kill you or why, that got him interested. He likes
solving puzzles.”

“Hope he’s good at
it, and fast too. If possible, I’d like him to solve this
before
they succeed,” she quipped wryly. “Did you mention Mr. Gordon?”

He nodded. “I told
him that he was your husband, but since he just took a bad fall and
awoke hours later having forgotten everything, even his own name,
that he won’t be much help! And that it complicates matters because
you don’t know if the attacks might have something to do with him
or his business.”

She nodded her head in
approval. She was pleased he had thought to say that. It would tie
the two predicaments in together.

“That way, he can
look into yon Gordon’s dealings while investigating who is trying
to harm you.”

“That was smart of
you!”

Glowing with pleasure
at her compliment, he added, “I made it all sound part of the
whole. I didn’t want him charging us more, once he knew there were
two separate problems.”

Tally couldn’t help
grinning at his parsimony, given he was generously offering to pay to
resolve her troubles.

“That was the other
thing that lured him in, I think. He was curious to meet a man who’d
lost his memory.”

“Yes, I can see how
that would be well nigh irresistible for someone who enjoys a good
poser,” she retorted dryly. She didn’t find the conundrum quite
so amusing, since it involved a stranger living in her house and
attacks on her life. “So Mr. Mason will be arriving tomorrow?”

“First thing.”

“Good.” By now, she
had forgotten all about reading the note that was still clutched in
her hand. Gazing down, she noticed it and read the end of the
sentence. “It says, ‘due to an illness in the family.’ Does
that mean he’s gone back to France? I don’t think he has any
other relatives here, in England, does he?”

“None, aside from the
two I know of.” He responded. He knew Monsieur from long before
Tally was even born. They’d met when Foster was working for Great
Aunt Ida during the years she had offered a home to Monsieur and his
family, to help them get on their feet. “His sister died last year,
remember? So there’s only her son left, over here. And he lives in
London, so Moreau wouldn’t need to go away if the nephew were ill.”

“The nephew….”
She was annoyed she hadn’t thought of contacting him sooner. “Maybe
I could locate him through the Royal Academy,” she said. “I may
not want anybody to know I’m in London, but I can’t help feeling
that Monsieur is in trouble and may need our help. His disappearance
may be connected to these attacks, and I won’t feel right until we
know what’s happened to him.”

They arrived home a few
moments later. She was relieved. Right now, it was the only place in
London where she felt somewhat safe.

Entering the front
hallway, she was astounded to hear Reed in the drawing room. Talking
to someone! She looked at Foster in alarm.

He returned an
‘I-told-you-we-should-have-chucked-him-out-on-the-street’ shrug.

She glowered fiercely
back at him. That was no help! Who was Reed talking to and why wasn’t
he upstairs in his bedroom? Up until now, with the laudanum, he’d
been too weak to do more than sit up for a meal.

“You heard right.”
Her fake husband sounded composed and utterly confident. The epitome
of a gentleman, in fact. Courteous yet firm.

She was just thinking
it might not be so bad after all, when she heard him say, “I am
Talia’s husband.”

A whirling dervish
entered the drawing room, taking Reed aback. Foster limped in behind.

Talia! The energy
emanating from her almost crackled. Her prime objective seemed to be
to stop him from talking to Mr. Al… Allerton…

Damn, but he was having
trouble focusing.

Ever since he’d
awakened without his memory, a perpetual fog had been lodged in his
brain. What little memories he had recovered seemed hazy at best. He
ran frustrated fingers through his hair. Now, what had he been
telling the young man? He gripped the back of an armchair to steady
himself. He was so dizzy, it was hard to think straight.

His wife greeted the
newcomer in an over loud and surprised voice. “Spencer!”

Was the man hard of
hearing? He hadn’t appeared so when he’d presented himself at the
door a few minutes ago, asking to see Miss Talia Lawton, which showed
how little he knew her when he couldn’t even get her name straight!

A very ordinary-looking
fellow. The visitor was of slight build, had mousy brown hair and a
pale countenance, nothing remarkable about him at all. Reed tottered
off-balance and had to clutch the armchair to stay upright. Al...
Aller... whatever his name was, was all that was average, other than
the shocked look in his nondescript brown eyes, when… When what?

“What are you doing
in London? You never said you were thinking of coming to Town.” His
wife was obviously on familiar terms with the man. Reed wasn’t sure
how he felt about that. She rushed over to greet the young man,
sounding more agitated than pleased to see him.

He was irked at how
quickly she took the chap’s arm and all but dragged him across the
room, away from Reed. If his legs weren’t feeling so wobbly, he’d
march over there and assert his rights as a husband. Surely she
should have greeted him first! And then to physically maneuver this
man away from him! Was that normal behavior?

Why wasn’t he certain
of that? Why wasn’t he certain of anything?

Foster came to stand
beside him. The butler was looking uncomfortable and unsure what to
do next. A rare moment of uncertainty for the tough old fellow.

“What made you
venture out of Evesham?” Talia’s voice sounded odd. He’d swear
she was trembling, and she looked unusually pale. Or was that his
muddled perception again? His eyeballs felt as if they were
unattached and rolling about in their sockets, making it difficult to
focus on his wife’s face. She appeared to have an identical twin
glued to her side, every bit as agitated as she was.

Was this
inoffensive-looking young man distressing her?

Reed began to move
across the room to support her, but Foster’s hand clamped onto the
sleeve of Reed’s dressing gown and pulled him to a halt. He was so
shaky on his feet, he almost toppled over. Annoyed, he turned an
angry look on the gnome-like little man.

Foster whispered
gruffly, “Best not. Best we get out of here and let her deal with
him.” He yanked on the sleeve again, urging Reed to follow him out
of the room. “Come on. I’ll explain upstairs.”

He resisted, though he
was tempted. These days it was rare that any one offered to explain
anything to him! But he was positive his wife was in trouble and
needed his help. She looked upset by this man’s arrival. He felt
sure that in his right mind, he’d never allow anybody, especially
not another man, to vex his wife.

He strained to hear the
visitor’s reply.

“I heard Mrs.
Plimpton was making the journey and resolved to escort her here. For
her protection, naturally.” Then in a more aggrieved tone, the
young man said, “But this man…”

Talia cut him off.
Again. “Mrs. P’s here?”

“Yes,” Allerton,
(Ah, that was his name!
)
begrudgingly replied. “She’s getting settled in the kitchen.”

His wife cast an
inquiring glance at Foster, but the butler studiously avoided looking
her way.

“Talia.” Allerton
was becoming insistent about capturing her attention.

He called her by her
first name? They must be close friends, even if he hadn’t got her
surname right. Swaying slightly, feeling as if he was trying to walk
on a ship being pummeled by huge waves on a stormy sea, he reached
out to grasp Foster’s shoulder to stay upright. The butler shot him
a sharp look, then, steadied him by gripping Reed’s elbow with
surprising strength for his age.

Reed must have made a
sound because, suddenly, Talia turned to look at him. She didn’t
look happy to see him. He swallowed his disappointment.

“What are you doing
downstairs?” It sounded like an accusation.

Didn’t a man have the
right to go where he wanted in his own house?

Shooting a look at Al…,
her friend, she came across to take Reed’s arm and, with her
servant’s help, walked him… urged him... toward the door. He
wanted to resist, but wasn’t solid enough on his feet.

In a low voice, she
said, “Why did you come down? You shouldn’t even be up and moving
about yet.” She indicated the dressing gown that fit well enough
but was old and well used. Not suitable for greeting people.

Ah… she was worried
about him and about what others would think of him. “I heard
knocking, but no one was answering the door.” He rocked back and
forth unsteadily. He tried to think. “I looked out my bedroom
window, but I was unable to see who was there. It might have been
you, locked out.” His mouth felt stiff and numb, as if he’d just
come in from being outside on a frigid day. “So I came down but, by
then, Joseph was just arriving from the back of the house.”

The young caller again
interrupted, more belligerently this time. “I insist you tell me
what’s going on!”

The butler hissed
impatiently.

Suddenly a loud,
good-humored voice said, “Tea everyone?”

“Mrs. P, I’m so
glad to see you.” Talia went to the woman and hugged her warmly.

Well,
that was more welcome than he’d gotten!
Reed grumbled to
himself.

“Foster and I have
probably each lost a stone without your excellent cooking,” Talia
said with a wry look.

He heard the old codger
beside him mutter, “Amen to that.”

The woman’s face was
wreathed in smiles. She glanced his way coyly, then back to her
mistress with a wide grin.

Talia ignored her
cook’s arch look and said, “You shouldn’t have bothered with
tea. You must be tired from your journey. Why don’t you let Joseph
show you to your room so you can unpack and get settled. We won’t
be needing anything special for supper.” She motioned to Foster to
explain where Joseph should take the cook, then, turned to Allerton.

“Where are you
staying?”

To Reed, it seemed that
Talia was intent on making sure her friend didn’t ask his question.
Odd, and not like her. Usually she was kind, attentive and eager to
let the other person do most of the talking.

“I have an uncle who
lives in Town.” He didn’t say he was staying there. “But…”

Reed decided he was
capable of being open-minded. He staggered forward a few steps,
watching the floor carefully so as not to stumble. “You can stay…
with… with us. Any friend of my wife’s is welcome.” He had to
concentrate very hard to issue the invitation and once he had, he
felt totally drained.